Playscape Murder
by Wooster
Summary: "I want this brat dead before my meeting Wednesday morning." A prepubescent boy, not yet known as 'The Serpent' is sent to make sure that meeting goes... favorably.


Warning: **Cassandra McAdams**

If that warning means nothing to you, then I say go back and watch some Season 3 Detentionaire.

If that warning means _something _then- *Whistles* how did she ever get past the network censors? I'm sure she's got a moral compass, but it's probably kept on the mantle as a decorative piece.

Aaaaaaanyways...

If you've watched Detentionaire then you know there's something... off about Biffy. There's a theory or two floating around Tumblr explaining his... oddities. One of them is kinda out there... and yet it's really in tune with what the writers might actually pull as a plot twist. I mean, they've got shipping machines, cyborg principals, and frog flavored soda. It kinda has to be outlandish to even hold a candle to the show. So I just hope I'm doing the spirit of the show some justice with this fic.

I'd like to give a special shout out to Tumblr fan artist Luccicute. A lot of my portrayal of the Serpent comes from her ideas of what his dysfunctional childhood could've been. Actually, I'm not sure I would've even written this were it not for her art. I even stole a prop from one of her illustrations. Do yourself a favor and seek out her gallery. And without further delay...

* * *

"I want this brat dead before my meeting Wednesday morning."

The boy seated in his cell looked at the manilla folder the sharply dressed woman dropped on the floor. He got off his seat and cautiously picked it up in a kneel, eyes never breaking contact with her. He returned to his seat and examined the contents. The folder was relatively thin but still had some heft. The boy pretended to read the first page.

The woman's phone rang. With an unrepressed groan, she brought it to her ear and the stern ruthless personality disappeared and was replaced by the pleasant tone of Mann Wurst & Finnwich's Chief Financial Officer.

"Hello. McAdams speaking," the female board member greeted.

30 seconds, the boy counted in his head, and turned to the next page. He continued feigning concentration on the piece of paper in front of him.

"Oh hi Harold," the woman replied to the other end. "No, no. I'm just tying up a few loose ends for Wednesday's acquisition. … What do you mean it's been moved to tomorrow?"

28… 29… 30… Turn the… page? He would've continued 'studying' had he not been distracted by Cassandra's jovial laugh.

"*Pfffffft*. You worry too much dear. … No I'm not doing anything underhanded. Listen to yourself. You're being paranoid. The affair with Mobile Wireless Federation has a lot hanging on it, and you haven't gotten any sleep in the past 3 days. Relax. You're a great CEO. Everything's going to be alright."

The boy turned to the next page while idly rubbing the electric collar he wore. This page actually caught his interest. Paper-cliped to another page were some photos of who the boy recognized as Cassandra's daughter, and another fat kid with a blue… thing on his head. Maybe 7… 9 years old? He wasn't sure. A lot of the photos had the kid in it. The boy assumed he was his mark.

"Look, why don't we stop by 'Kimmie's' afterward," Cassandra rolled her eyes. "Sure, we can do take out instead. Whoop. I've got another call coming in. I'll talk to you later honey… I love you too… bye." She hung up and stomped her foot into the ground. Her heel chipped away a pebble of concrete with the impact.

"GRAAH, That MAN," she fumed, and continued to mutter something to herself the boy couldn't quite hear. She often did that when mentally readjusting her plans.

The boy was missing details, but from what he gathered from bits and fragments of previous monologues and the guards idly chatting, Cassandra's father had once been CEO of Mann, Wurst, and Finnwich. But rather then inherit the title directly, the board of Directors passed CFO Cassandra Mann, and gave the title to then Vice President Howard McAdams, much to her father's outrage. But due to Mr. Mann contracting an 'incurable disease', his ailing health and limited time prevented any major intervention on his part.

Honestly, it wasn't needed. Cassandra and Howard began dating, by coincidence _of course_, around when it became clear Cassandra was not going to head MWF. They wed a month after the funeral. For Howard, he found his true love. For Cassandra, she found an alternative to running MWF directly. That was not quite a decade ago. Since then Howard was getting paranoid of all the strange happenings under his leadership, and Cassandra was getting irritated at how much more caution was needed these days to pull the rug under him.

A sudden shock to the collar broke the boy from his rumination and he dropped the folder instantly.

"Change of plans. We're leaving now." Cassandra said, hand still on the buzzer.

She grabbed his arm and they marched out of the cell. He'd never get to finish reading the file. That was fine with him. He just wondered why he was never taught how to read, yet expected to be able to. He learned long ago never to question it. He rubbed his neck with his free hand where the contacts on the collar met his neck.

**ZAP**

"Don't even think about it."

* * *

When the trunk finally opened, the boy was blinded by the bright sun. The only break was the blackened silhouette of MWF's CFO.

"Go. And DON'T get caught. If you do, I won't be coming back for you." Cassandra made a show of putting the zapper in her purse before marching off to the picnic tables where the rest of the adults were watching their kids at the park.

The boy slipped out of the trunk and closed it gently. He took in his surroundings.

He was standing in the parking lot attached to a public play ground. It was mid day, but the grounds were relatively crowded with kids, parents, and the odd hobo trying to remain low key. Probably, the weekend, or maybe a holiday? If tomorrow was the big meeting then today might be Sunday?

The boy shook his head and banished the useless thoughts. He was here for a reason.

He retreated to behind a wooden fence and scanned the area again. He spotted Mrs. McAdams with her daughter (who was seemingly bored to tears hearing the adults chat) sitting at a picnic table across from a pudgy family of three. Cassandra's presence was strange in and of itself. This was the first time in memory she'd been so physically close to a mission of his.

His eyes sharpened when he recognized the kid sitting between the two adults still wearing the blue... thing on his head. It was his mark.

The blushing pudgy child was playing with his feet in an awkward way while staring at the bored Kimmie. The two kids briefly made eye contact. The pudgy child panicked and planted his face in the cake. Kimmie let out a heartfelt giggle at the boy covered in frosting. The mark made a doofy laugh, and experimentally put his face in the cake again. Kimmie responded in kind by laughing.

"Biffy! Control yourself." The mom took a paper towel to her son's face and worked to clean the confectionary off.

So that was his name…

Mrs. McAdams gestured for Kimmie to go play on the playscape. Even from where the boy was hiding, he couldn't help cringe when the girl let out an uninhibited squeal of delight. The daughter of McAdams had pipes like a banshee. Kimmie immediately ran around the table and grabbed the Biffy by the arm, still partly covered in frosting.

This... was not good. Mrs. McAdams had made it perfectly clear that her daughter was to remain ignorant of missions such as these, even at the expense of the mission. But Mrs. McAdams was a "have her cake and eat it too" kind of sociopath. While the heiress was rarely an issue or even indirectly involved, normally it was as simple as removing her from the vicinity and completing the mis-

**ZAP**

The boy rubbed his neck. Mrs. McAdams was jovially chatting with the two parents. He was sure the CFO couldn't see where he was hiding. But he was also sure the electric jolt to his neck was an unkind reminder to "stop thinking and do [his] job". Did she have literal eyes on the back of her head?

The assassin boy's stomach groaned. So he would do his job. But first thing's first...

He quickly stole an unattended plastic bag with someone's lunch in it. Of course he would eat it, but the real prize was the bag itself. He twisted and tore off the handle and did his best to hide it under his collar where the contacts were. He'd have to remove it before the mission ended, of course. There's no way his modification wouldn't be discovered. But as long as he could, he'd do without the electric reminder.

"You know that food's not yours right?"

The voice caught the boy off guard. He quickly dove into the bushes.

"Dude. I can still see you. Get out here or I tell every'un you're a thief."

The boy tossed the bag out in the open from his hiding place. Hopefully she'd leave.

"Pft. You can keep my food. I don't even like roast beef."

The boy reached back out and grabbed the bag, greedily consuming the sandwich and banana. There was a small cup with tuna salad and metal spork. He skipped the allergy infested snack, but slid the spork into his sleeve.

"Let me restate that I still don't care about the food. Let me also restate that I will tell if you don't come out here."

The boy was aggravatingly at a loss. He couldn't afford to be discovered... Not again. But he still didn't know where his onlooker was spying from. He stepped out, discreetly feeling for the spork in his sleeve.

"That's better."

A black girl dressed in a green hoodie and glasses jumped down from the tree she had been just in. "So that's where she was", the boy thought.

The girl made a smug grin in his direction. The boy would enjoy dislodging it. Behind his back, he gripped the spor-

"YO KIMBERLY. I FOUND US A FOURTH," the girl in the hoodie shouted. The boy discretely hid the would-be weapon and glared at her. Witnesses are always a bad thing. The boss's daughter watching was no less than a worst case scenario.

"Don't give me that look. Blackmailed into a game of tag is hardly the worst thing that can happen. Name's Nadine by the way." Nadine extended her arm for a handshake. The boy responded by crossing both of his.

"Tsh. I bet you're the life of the party back home." Nadine replied.

Kimberly, or rather Kimmie came around the corner. In her wake, the pudgy mark was doing his best to keep up huffing and puffing. It was pathetic.

"Hey Nadine, who'd you fin-… Oh. It's you." Kimmie seemed underwhelmed.

"You know this fruit cake?" Nadine asked, a bit perplexed.

"Uh-huh. I see him all the time at my Mom's work." Kimmie replied half disinterested.

"He got a name or something? Boy doesn't talk much." Nadine asked.

Kimmie rolled her eyes and responded in a mocking monotone, "I'm sorry. That information is classified."

"Your call is unimportant to us, and will be ignored in the order in which it was received." Nadine finished.

Kimmie smirked and the girls preformed some form of a practiced fist-bump. They laughed. The boy's throat knotted. It wasn't fair. He had a name. He knew it… He did! … He just didn't know what it _actually_ was. Whenever he tried to remember his name, all he'd get was a half memory of two forgotten faces, which was irritatingly irrelevant. Cassandra obviously knew, but she never called him by it. "A _spooky little assassin_ has no use for a name," she'd say with kind, insincere eyes, "It only makes you easier to track down."

The boy shook his head, banishing the thoughts.

Girls are weird.

* * *

Originally, the 4 were going to play tag. Biffy was against the idea. He still had a layer of sweat from keeping up with Kimmie. Nadine suggested Hide-and-Seek instead, but Kimmie didn't think it was a good idea.

"You'll never find him." Kimmie said.

"Who? Biffy?" asked Nadine.

"No, tall dark and moody."

"You suddenly find a 5th or something?"

"No." Kimmie pointed at the assassin.

Nadine blew a raspberry. Then she was beside herself in hysterics. If she didn't die laughing, the boy would be more than willing to finish the job for her, if Kimmie wasn't standing right there.

"*Chukle* But no seriously, who's your expert hider?" asked Nadine.

"I'm not kidding."

"You're not kidding?"

"I'm not kidding."

"Girl, that boy is so bad, he couldn't hide a needle in a haystack."

Kimmie huffed and gave Nadine a squint of 'not impressed'.

"… You're not kidding," Nadine concluded. "Either you suddenly got bad at Hide-and-Seek or there's something I'm missing."

The two girls bickered back and forth about the boy's ability to cloak himself. The boy without a name was getting impatient. He needed to complete the mission but couldn't with Kimmie present. He was fine with Nadine watching. As a rule, killing witnesses was a sign of a sloppy job, more evidence means more questions for the police, but for her he felt he could make an exception.

Then an idea struck the boy.

"How about we compromise…"

…

The three other children all stared at the assassin.

"So he 'can' speak," Nadine chuckled. That seemed to lighten the mood a bit. The boy scowled.

"Ha-ha. Very funny." He paused to emphasis how much he was laughing. Spoiler alert: Not at all. He continued, "Kimmie is right, if I hide for real, you won't find me."

*Giggle Snort*

The boy ignored Nadine. "But if I were to do the seeking, we could continue to play?"

With no real objections the kids all went to their hiding places while the boy counted. He cheated, obviously. But there were too many kids to watch at once. He watched Kimmie hide behind the wall near the water fountain. Biffy went in the vicinity of the playscape. But he lost track of Nadine. Drat.

Whelp. That's that. "Ready or not… here I come."

He didn't expect to find her there, but he decided to check anyways. Nadine wasn't in the tree where they had first met. He pulled out a of his pocket a small portable pair of binoculars. He caught a glimpse of Kimmie's foppish sunglasses from where she was hiding. Nadine didn't appear to be hiding in any of the other large trees.

The boy frowned. He'd rather be aware of Nadine's location, if for no other reason then to keep her in a blind spot. He pocketed the binoculars and headed to the playscape.

As far as places to commit murder went, the playscape wasn't high on his list of 'most desirable places'. Parents watched their children like hawks in case something might happen to them. He didn't blame them, really. After all, something _was_ going to happen. The boy smirked.

Biffy's parents and Cassandra were still at the picnic table talking. They were all huddled around a laptop discussing something. The boy assumed business of some sort.

Well, _good_. So long as Cassandra was distracted she would hopefully not notice her zapper wasn't working on him.

The boy eventually came across Biffy. He was hiding by the tunnel slide on the second story of the playscape, and wasn't aware of his approach, and the tunnel made for an excellent blind spot for prying eyes.

All too easy.

The boy twirled his spork with practiced finesse.

"Peek-a-boo. I see you."

He summoned all of his force, and stabbed him in the back.

**ZAP**

The assassin fell backwards. What in Fishgod's name was Cassandra thinking? The pulse was stronger than normal. He rubbed his neck. The plastic bag was still blocking the contacts.

Something wasn't right…

"*Sigh* you found me. Tell me you found Nadine or Kimmy first right?" Biffy said dejected.

The assassin's face went blank.

This was _not_ normal murder victim behavior:

1) Most pressing: the lack of being murdered.

2) The lack of concern for personal well being.

3) The absence of perceived pain.

Ignoring Biffy's whining, he jumped back up and turned Biffy around to face his back.

… The spork was still lodged in his back. And sunk in far enough that only half the handle was exposed. Something black was pooling at the wound.

"Are you okay?" Biffy asked befuddled.

This was wrong. This is so wrong. This _doesn't_ happen. This CAN'T HAPPEN. **WHY IS THIS HAPPENING**?

The assassin did something he rarely ever did. He _panicked_. He grabbed the boy who was doing a wretched job of falling over dead and solidly kicked him off the playscape. Biffy landed with a horrid SMACK on the teeter-toter below.

Necks do not bend that way.

"Ow. Why're you doing this to me? I could've gotten hurt." Biffy complained.

… Necks do not bend that way _and still have their owners yapping_.

"BIFFY!"

The assassin turned; Nadine was in a full run from wherever she was hiding. He didn't have time for this. He jumped from the second story and landed on the unoccupied side of the teeter-toter. Biffy went flying for the second time and landed with a CRACK.

Biffy stopped moving. But instead of flesh and guts, metal and wires were exposed on his arm and face where the rubber skin had been torn. Sounds of electrical shorts pierced the air.

"WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU!?" Nadine screamed. She spotted Biffy and paled. "Biffy?" She seemed just as confused, if not more, at what she was seeing as the assassin was.

Parents were getting up and approaching the ruckus. Not good. Not good at all.

Oh well. If he was going down, he'd enjoy taking down Nadine with him.

He punched. Nadine managed to catch the motion out of the corner of her eye and dodged, albeit not cleanly. Her right lens would need replacing. He punched again, she dodged again, smoother this time, but still wrong. There was an odd shoulder sway included. Curious. Her technique was off. Clearly not a fighter but she had a practiced grace. A dancer or gymnast perhaps?

He faked a third punch but made for a low kick sweeping Nadine off her feet. She broke her fall by extending her hands behind her and retaliated with a breakdance kick of her own, knocking the assassin backwards.

Beginners luck, the boy surmised. Professional Poker players, when put up against an amateur, have a much better chance of _loosing_ to them, then say someone who's played Poker off and on. The tells and plays you expect from someone who knows the rules fall apart when the opponent doesn't know said tells and plays, and they leave you open to moves that are too stupid to be practical, but in a twist of logic, are so very much practical.

Weaponized _Dance_. The boy would've laughed at the absurdity of it all, were there not more pressing developments…

"The _Biological Intelligence Finnwich Firmware: Upsilon '_B.I.F.F.Y.' has been compromised," said a female computer voice from Biffy's unmoving mouth. It sounded like the A.I. from the Green Apple Splat Factory.

The fighting pre-teens were too distracted by the unexpected voice to continue their fight.

"Deploying defensive acoustics in 3… 2… 1…"

The assassin quickly covered his ears, expecting a high pitched noise. But instead, very loud dance music played. Confused, he un-plugged them. Nadine was standing in a trance.

… She wasn't he only one. The hoard of concerned parents and other children were all standing, bobbing their heads with blank expressions.

Creeeeeeeeepy.

Why was everyone in a trance? The music wasn't even that good. Actually, why wasn't he in a trance too for that matter?

"Get away from him!" was the only warning before a crystalizer gun discharged. It missed by a foot.

The assassin immediately ran. Shot after shot chased him by the two round 'parents' of Biffy wearing headphones and armed with hand held crystalizer guns. He dashed behind the great Tazelwurm monument and peered around the corner. The mother was still shooting at him, while the father was calling for help on his cellphone.

But what was most interesting, was Cassandra still at the picnic table. She seemed to break out of the trance, finished whatever she was doing and pocketed the memory card. She grinned a toothy gring, gave the boy a wink, then pretended to be in a trance again.

Did Cassandra know this was going to happen? Was he drugged or something? Why were the four of them immune while everyone else was hypnotized?

A large van with the Mobile Wireless Federation logo violently pulled in taking out two bushes and a flower bed in the process. The doors opened and 2 hazmats ran out with their odd stride. What remained of Biffy was put on a stretcher and carted off. The parents joined the hazmats and drove off, but not before grabbing their possessions.

… The assassin had no idea what he had just witnessed.

Nadine, and everyone else for that matter, shook off their trance and was confused.

The boy sighed and removed the protective plastic bag from the shock collar. Careful to remain in Nadine's blind spot, he went off and to find Kimmie.

"Your mom wants us to leave" he told her.

* * *

The boy without a name sat alone in his cell. He stroked the snake that kept him company on these lonely days. She responded with affection and rubbed his side. He winced at the pressure where Nadine had landed the kick.

As was often the case, the boy was kept in the dark regarding what had actually happened. But he could make an educated guess from what became public knowledge and what he heard the guards talking about.

Mobile Wireless Federation was officially bought by Mann Wurst and Finnwich the day after the incident. Key negotiation documents had gone missing, giving Mobile Wireless Federation's CEO Mr. Wurst a profound disadvantage at the final negotiation.

Biffy and his 'parents' had returned after a 4 month long 'vacation'. Upon return, they moved near Mobile Wireless Federation's old HQ. The new place looked innocuous, but was retrofitted with state of the art security. The boy kept a sharp ear for rumors of robotics or cyborgs, but none made it his way.

Cassandra's visits were half as frequent as they normally were. Marital issues was the water-cooler explanation. Howard McAdams paranoia was eating him alive. He _knew_ Cassandra was behind the 'conveniences' at the meeting. But as always, he had no proof.

The boy was caught off guard when Cassandra appeared at his cell door. She tossed him a tuxedo set. But she held onto the black dress shoes.

"Come. You're going to join me & _Howard_ for dinner," Cassandra didn't hide her disdain for her husband's name. She clicked the side of one of the shoes revealing a switchblade.


End file.
